


Chapter 1: Rice-Stuffed Zucchini with Pistachios (Dammit that wasn't supposed to be the title of the whole story^^"...whatever -.-)

by 1000lux



Series: Vegetarian Summer Entrées [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Red Dragon (2002), Red Dragon - Thomas Harris
Genre: ..but really it's the dogs fault, ..reasonable trust issues though, Angst, Arguments, Freddy Lounds didn't die during Red Dragon, Hannibal being maybe a little ridiculous, Hannibal doesn't want to share, Happy Ending, I haven't red the book, I only saw the tv series and red dragon, M/M, Past established Relationship, Possessive!Hannibal, Post Red Dragon, Trust Issues, canon up till the end of series except their relationship, dogs!, kinda hurt/comfort, kinda stream of consciousnessish, sad/needy!Will, uhmm...timelines?, why did Hannibal do what he did, working out the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:56:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000lux/pseuds/1000lux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My approach to the end of the TV series and the continuation into the story of Red Dragon. They get back together after Hannibal escapes from prison/hospital and Will is still working with Jack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rice-Stuffed Zucchini with Pistachios

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction, I own neither rights to the characters nor to the series or the books or the movies.
> 
> This is my first story for this fandom. Please leave comments ♥~(^。^ )

************************************

Ich hab noch immer blaue Flecken und ein paar sind von dir.  
Und noch immer diese Angst ich könnt sie alle verliern.

I still got bruises and a few I've got from you.  
And I've still got that fear I could loose them all.

(Rosenstolz - Blaue Flecken)

******************  
Part I  
******************

It's the pain that wakes me in the morning. I still call it morning, even though, the painkillers let  
me sleep till noon. But it's not like I have to go anywhere. On my way to the bathroom I bump  
my knee at the cupboard Molly insisted on buying. I wish she'd taken it with her when she left,  
but I'm too apathetic to throw it out either.  
I'm lucky, really. I have to tell myself every morning. After all they were able to save the nerves.  
»I'm hoping you're not too ugly.« Fuck him! Biggest mistake in my life. I should have never  
gone back there. Fuck all those families. Whatever! No matter how many else might have died.  
But that's not the way I am. Never will be. Though, in the end, I wasn't even left the job.  
I look into the mirror and thoroughly take in the left half of my face. Looking as it always did.  
Then I quickly turn my face around. Criss-crossed lines that separate too white looking skin  
from too red looking skin. It's not too bad. The about six plastic surgeons I had, over the months  
after it happened, did their fair share of work on me. My eye's still there. My mouth looks normal.  
I have full control of my face muscles. The line's are about the only thing that's still left. And the  
pain of course.  
I'm not really disfigured. It's more that I feel like it. And I seem to carry it off quite well, because  
people seem to believe me. At first they're just awkward and aplogetic, but after knowing me  
for a while they turn away in disgust. Like Molly. Even my dogs sense it. Somethings wrong with  
me and it has nothing to do with the scars.  
But I'm okay with being a recluse. Will walks in. I lift him into the bathtub. He likes to stay there  
I don't know why. He's strange like me.  
I found him three months ago. He was missing an eye and a paw. I instantly took to him. Though  
he carries his »damage« off far better than me (I probably should have named him different  
then).  
Somehow I know that Hannibal wouldn't think I'm ugly.

*****************  
Part II  
*****************

I open my eyes. The fear is there again. I can feel its breath in my neck, hitched from  
running. I get very still, hoping I can just wait it out. But it's already gnawing at my bones  
again. Trying to scratch new lines in my face. Did I forget to take my meds? The doorbell rings.  
Where're my glasses? No, I didn't forget my pills. My hands shaking so much I nearly drop the  
package. I calculate in my head. Will I get an overdose if I just pop another dose? I guess I'm  
about to find out. I watch my feet on the way to the door. Maybe I should get a pair of those  
slippers where you're feet look like that of Big-Foot. It's Jack. Somehow I already know it when  
I open the door. And I probably shouldn't have, afterall I've still got another face half to loose.  
"What do you want?" It's not really a question, I know he's not here because he's worried or  
missed me. No one likes to look at their mistakes. Though I always liked to look at Hannibal.  
"Have you read the papers?"  
"Considering that you're not here to talk about Madonna having cancelled her tour, I guess  
you're here to talk about »Buffalo Bill«."  
"Yes."  
"There must be someone else in the whole BAU that can take a look at such cases." I raise my  
hands in exasperation.  
"We had an agent, but she lost her lead...Please Will. It's the daughter of the govenour. We still  
have two days left to find her."  
"And you think after three years I can just start-up the engines and everything will be back to  
normal?"  
"Yes."  
I snort at him  
"Because you've never shut those engines down."  
And I know I've lost.

***********************

She's alive. That's good. It really really is. Maybe I'm going to call Molly later. I know I'm smiling  
because I feel the uncomfortable stretch of the skin up from the chin to my right ear. Oh god,  
that sounds like I'm a hideous monster, but the truth is, I feel like one as long as I don't see  
myself. I warp into something so much more worse than what I actually look like, that it makes  
me feel slightly sick. Beverly walks past me patting me on the shoulder.  
"You look good!" She means it too. I smile lopsidedly.  
Then I see Jack and Dr. Chilton in whispering to each other and I know this was only the start.  
I should have known, once Jack's got his claws back in me, he won't let go so easily. But I'm not  
really mad about it. Today felt good. Why should I stay at home all the time and have my dogs  
deal with my panic attacks. Jack was the cause of it so he might as well deal with it.  
"Would you consider coming back to work? Maybe a day a week or something, Only as much  
as you can.."  
"Okay."  
"Okay?"  
"Okay."  
Jack let's out a relieved breath. "  
There's another case, which now has the main priority. Dr...Lecter escaped..." It seems he still  
wants to add something but he just keeps the sentence hanging in the air. Then his mouth  
snaps shut again.  
Oh. Oh. Oh!  
"This hasn't just happened!" I scream in indignation of sudden realisation "You knew all the time  
while you had me searching for »Buffalo Bill«! Is that what you ment by your agent having lost  
his lead?!!"  
"I'm sorry.." I push him "We needed you undistracted." I push him again "You know I'm right!"  
There's nothing more to say. I turn around and leave. "If you tap my phone I'll set it on fire."  
I wave him goodbye.

**********************

Jack's not stupid, he knows if there's as much as the hint of a cop, Hannibal won't come. So I'm  
left in solitude at my house.  
I start working the case. I even get up in the morning. Keep the office hours. I take up the  
appearance of a normal human being again. I put on my person-suit (as Hannibal once  
told me, his therapist had called it) long ago exchanged with the bathrobe commonly associated  
with mental institutions.  
Always waiting.  
My dogs know it too, by the way they sit on the veranda ears poised.

***********************  
Part III:  
***********************

He's there. It's funny how I'm not even really mad at him any longer.  
"You've got balls showing up here."  
He touches my face. The right side.  
"You were expecting me." He says, calling my charade of anger a lie. I start to laugh him off  
saying something about the police being there any second. He licks over my cheek. And I shudder.  
And I start crying. For the first time in three years I feel like a human being again. It feels so  
good and is so wrong. It sounds like a line from a cheap romance movie. And I cry even harder.

It's not even a choice there for me to make. All the things said, all the things done. Cruel words  
and even crueller choices.  
"You're...Why?!" Is all I choke out. Asking for so many things. Why are you here? For me  
obviously. To kill me? I doubt it. Why did you do all the things you did? The killings? That too,  
but the matters important to me are of far more selfish nature. Why did you do these things to  
me?  
We discussed a lot of that stuff while the »Tooth Fairy« case, but enough had happened while  
that, after that. Why did you send him to me?  
But I don't really have to ask do I? If there's one thing I can do, it's answering that question for  
myself. But I don't want to enter his mind. I don't know if he sees what I'm thinking but for all I  
know about him, it wouldn't surprise me.  
"Do you want me dead?"  
"Most certainly not." He says with that damn calm and collected voice. I don't know what's  
wrong with him. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know if I want to know. It's your fault!  
It's all your fault! You did this to me!!! I wanna scream, but at the same time a voice in my head  
sneers. It's your own fault. It has been since the first time you took him into your bed.  
"Would you like me to leave?" Damn polite. I doubt he would leave though. In the end it's always  
me who gives in.  
I can't deal with it. I can't deal with it now. You have to wake up, Will. And yet, I'm still in his arms,  
even though I swore he would never touch me again. (Even if no one would want to, these days,  
anyway.)  
I can't work out shit from so many years in just one night. I have to calm down. Look at the  
situation. Consider my options and think them through. Right through the end. At the end of this  
I will end up either dead or in prison. There's only one thing I can do. Call Jack. I doubt he's going  
to stop me. This is somehow another game for him. Seeing if he's fucked me up enough I won't  
sell him out. One hand is on the nape of my neck, pulling me closer. He puts a light kiss on my  
hair. I feel so stupid. You hurt me more than any living being will ever be able to do again. I  
trust you. I love you. I feel safe with you. I hate myself.  
"You don't really think you're ugly, do you?" Bastard. Bastard. Asshole. I'm going to cry again.  
I'm not helpless. I can take care of myself. And yet I've found myself reduced to a crying, clinging  
mess around him. I don't know what I want from him. Please stop killing people? Please fuck me?  
Please tell me that it wasn't just a game.  
"Will." How much of all this did I speak out loud? Is it pity I see in his eyes? But I know it's not.  
Desperate hunger. Wrong choice of words. I let out a chortle that startles me. He quirks a brow  
at me questioningly.  
"What am I going to do with you?" He asks me. I don't know what he's going to do, but I know  
what I want him to. His hand traces the scar patterns on my face. His eyes are on me. Always  
on me since he's entered the room. He still wants me.  
And I fall and I shatter.  
And he kisses me like he hasn't for so many years.

***********************

Jack calls. I pick up the cellphone. My voice sounds rough and sleepy.  
"Sorry, to wake you at such an hour, but we have a lead to Lecter. Three hours from here.  
There's the possibility that he's staying there right now at a hotel."  
"I'm on my way." When I hang up, Hannibal looks at me expectandly.  
"I have to leave. Will you still be there when I get home?"  
"If I'm gone it won't be for long."  
That's all I need to know. I've given enough. And tonight I got the other half of my face back.


	2. Falafel-Stuffed Eggplant with Tahini Sauce and Tomato Relish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will deals with Hannibal being back in his life, being back in his job and Ms. Freddy Lounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos!!!

 

It's been a long time since I came around  
Been a long time but I'm back in town  
This time I'm not leaving without you   
(Lady Gaga - You and I)  
  
  


I ignore Jacks growling. I ignore the overall downcast mood after we've again hit a dead end in  
our search for Hannibal. I mumble something about being exhausted and not even a on the  
force anymore. No one stops me.

When I get home there's no trace of Hannibal having ever been there. Except, of course, for  
him still being there. I know it immediately, even while I walk into the deserted bedroom. And  
for sure, there he comes walking out of the kitchen.  
He leans against the doorframe and smiles, waiting for me to come over to him. I do. I lean my  
head against his shoulder and smile goofily (Now that he can't see my face). He guides my head  
up from his shoulder and kisses me, after looking at me with a scrutiny that would have me lashing  
out with anyone but him. And I guess that is it. The reason we can just go back to being that  
close again, after such a long time. How we can go back from what was no contact for most of  
the time (and when it wasn't, fluctuated dizzyingly between enmity and obsession), to an intimacy  
that makes me wonder if I dreamt everything that happened and will find my face unscathed  
when I look into the mirror. Because after all this, he's still the only person I really trust. And I'm  
still the only person he needs. And I can trust in that. Somehow I've always known, that everything  
that happened since the day I found out the ugly truth, has been his form of moping about being  
rejected by me and at the same time desperately trying to keep me in his orbit.  
I don't need to ask. Because I can understand him. As he can understand me. And that is the  
most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me in my life. To him I am desirable. Even like  
this. Just like I couldn't turn away from him after knowing what he's done. Not really. And it's  
really a miracle it took the others on the team so long to connect the dots about how intimate  
our relationship really was.  
He picks me up and carries me over to the bed. He liked to do that too, before. I don't know  
if it's the height difference that seems to invite it. Or if he just likes to be bossy like that. I laugh  
at him. He scowls at me. And I have to laugh even harder. He knows that too.

********************* 

Nothing I do is ever left to chance. I am an artist. I mock the feeble minded to their faces. I  
control the way people see me.

This is my design.

I resent dullness. Only those who can stand beside me are worth taking notice of. I relish in the  
game. But the game, always, can end only one way.

This is my design. 

I take because I can. Because I'm entitled to do so. I take something meaningless and turn it  
in something worth my time. I enjoy the deceit. It is a play. It is a performance. Staged for the  
entertainement of those who are able to understand it.  
It is my own private joke. My gift to myself.

This is my design.

I really have to stop analysing Hannibal. Especially during breakfast. I look up at him, while he  
precisely cuts off the top of an egg.

*********************

"We can't continue like this forever." I say.  
"Naturally not", he replies smoothly, looking up from the newest article about his escape in the  
newspaper, "Life is but series of inevitable changes."  
"Oh, don't get all psychatrist on me!"  
"You are worried." Hannibal uses his placating voice, as if I'm a patient that could go amok any  
second. "And I can completely emphasize with that.." Oh, I doubt that. "..We are currently in an  
extremely stressing position which puts additional strain on you. That's why I, more than once,  
pointed out that it would benefit us both if we would leave the country."  
"If you hadn't randomly killed people, we wouldn't be in this place to begin with!"  
"Now we are going in circles, Will. And I have to remind you that we are both aware that it  
was far from randomly."  
I just storm out of the flat. Leaving behind Hannibal together with my dogs. A small part of me  
hopes that the police will search my place while I'm gone and I will come home to the pristine  
loneliness that's been representative of my life before Hannibal.

*******************

I look down at the latest body parts layed out before me. Everyone is staring at me expectantly.  
Beverly told me the other day, how good it is that I'm back, because their closed-case rate recently  
was, quote, for shit, unquote.  
"Will? You're alright?"  
I look up at Jack, who gives me his trademark are-you-going-to-have-a-psychotic-breakdown face.  
"I'm fine."

He beckons me to stay afterwards.  
"I absolutely see why you refused to see a psychotherapist after everything, but given the newest events"  
Hannibal.  
"I think it would do you good.."  
He's starting to sound like Hannibal. I wonder when I'll really blunder out something like this, one of these  
days. Though they'd probably just think I'm having hallucinations. It does have it's benefits to be considered  
not exactly sane.  
"I think it's a little too late to try and fix something. For what it concerns me, the therapists evaluating me  
during my trial were enough."

Alanna is waiting for me outside, when I finally manage to get rid of Jack. Wow, that sounds just wrong.  
"Hey, Will" Her voice is small, careful. "How are you holding up?"  
Everyone is incredibly considerate towards my feelings these days. Do they really think I'm scared of Hannibal?  
I bite down a cynical remark. Alanna is, afterall, still my friend. So I give her my best broken-but-still-working  
smile and say, "So-so."  
"Nightmares?" She asks knowingly.  
"Not so much now." I answer truthfully.

********************

Freddy Lounds is waiting for me when I get home. Leaning against her car in front of my house.  
I bristle unconsciously, just from her mere presence.  
"So, now that your boyfriends out again, have you already seen him?", her eyes sparkle with glee  
at watching me squirm.  
"He's not my boyfriend any longer."  
"Oh, but he used to be." I nod in frustration. I feel a headache starting. A part of me wishes for  
Hannibal to sally out the door, killing her on the spot. Are these my bloodthirsty thoughts, or did  
I, again, bring something home?  
"You won't find him here." Oh, well, you might just. "If you stray on my property just once more  
I'll have you arrested."  
"Touchy. Well, I guess it's hard to be betrayed by someone you loved like this." She shrugs  
nonchalantly. "On the other hand, I'm still not perfectly convinced you didn't know about his  
»hobbies«. Or would you rather call it a vocation?" She shoots him a smile full of immaculate  
teeth. "You, afterall, knew him better than I."  
"Are we going to keep going in circles? My name was cleared over four years ago!"  
"Oh, I'm sure, you're just as innocent as you claimed Abigail was. Well, I guess she got what  
she deserved, being eaten by that psycho, after what she did to those poor girls."  
"Don't you dare talk about Abigail!" Each word is perfectly pronounced. It's not an order. It's  
not a threat. It's a promise.  
For a second she pauses. Maybe she's seen traces of Hannibal in my eyes, or whoever has been  
in there last. Then she brushes back a stray lock and takes out her camera.  
"Maybe a photo to go with the article?"  
I think I take her by surprise when I smile into the camera. Because there's one thing she doesn't  
know, when she's pretty close to the truth in other matters. Abigail is alive. Hannibal says an ear  
is a smaller loss than a finger. I'm still angry, but my anger is outweighed by my relief.  
Lounds is gone. Finally. I've just kept standing there in the garden. Not even thinking, just frozen in  
place. The door opens, one of my dogs comes running out. Thank God. Hannibal's home. I need  
him to be there now.

*******************

"There's no one else who's allowed to be inside you" He hisses into my ear, while he's substantiating  
his words with deeds. "No one is allowed to stay inside your mind, except me."  
I let out a dry laugh, trying to catch my breath, while my hands grasp for hold. It's not like I  
keep those guys inside my head by choice.

I lie beside him, my mind comfortably muddled with beginning sleep. "You said you were my  
friend and what's important to you are not the lives of the people I save but my life."  
He nods in acknowledgement. His eyes immediately focused again.  
"Was it...is it true?" I'm scared and self-conscious. And I know it's pretty bad that I can only draw  
my self-esteem from the worth I'm given by others.  
"No, Will" He shakes his head "I love you. That's why your life is the only one important to me."

*******************

Georgia Madchen is waiting under my bed again. I can hear her breath as much as I hear the scissors  
scraping over the floorboard. Tobias Budge stands in the shadows of the curtains, tuning his cello.  
In the garden the barely alive are trying to crawl out of their premature graves.  
But I don't have to be scared. Because the most dangerous of all monsters is lying beside me,  
guarding my sleep. Even Garrett Jakob Hobbs has to give up his side of the bed. Morosely curling up  
on the floor beside Francis Dolarhyde.

No, really. Not so much now.

*******************

He's here again and it's good. It doesn't matter what we're going to do. I feel sane. I sleep.  
As long as Jack doesn't find out and he doesn't kill any more people, I'm okay.  
He wakes up now. And it's a rare occasion that I'm awake before him (Though God alone knows how  
he does it. It's not like I have considrably stable sleeping periods.), so I savor it.  
He looks at me. And he smiles. And he says "Good morning, Will." with that accent that's so  
incredibly thick first thing in the morning.  
And I smile back. And I think that maybe sometimes little things are enough. Maybe you can't expect  
to have a hot understanding boyfriend and expect that he's not a serial killer too.  
And as long as the breakfast bacon isn't made from human parts, I won't complain but take whatever is given  
to me. And I think he's happy too, at least he looks like it. Right now he looks pretty smug, leaning  
there propped up on his elbow. So I topple him over.  
I never considered myself the type for spontanous passionate kisses. But I think Hannibal is going to  
keep my secret.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter titles are from http://www.cookinglight.com


	3. Summer Lemon-Vegetable Risotto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal spends his time with and without Will, reflecting about their relationship and being annoyed by the dogs.  
> Also in this episode:  
> Arguments!  
> Nightmares!  
> And eating fancy dishes that aren't made from humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time I've tried myself at writing from Hannibal's perspective. It's part of my dealing with the impact of the last episode, from which also stems the third part of my series. I felt the need to explore Hannibals emotions and decisions not only from what he tells Will, but also from what he really thinks.  
> I hope you like it. (⌒_⌒;) And if not, I'm going to cry. o(╥﹏╥)o No, kidding. I'm just going to get really angry.  
> （;≧皿≦）Because that would be just rude. (*＾▽＾)／  
> I'm in a weird mood tonight, ┐(￣ヮ￣)┌ so I'm going to stop typing nonsense now. (I was just looking for an excuse to use a myriad of smileys. ☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆)
> 
> By the way, thanks for the kudos! (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o))) Much, much appreciated!

 

*******************

It’s unforgivable,  
I stole and burnt your soul  
Is that what demons do?  
They rule the worst of me  
Destroy everything,  
They bring down angels like you

(John Newman - Love me again)

******************

"Name me one reason why it is sane to stay with you." He demands.

******************

I see him and I want to hold him. It's strange for me to be so protective. But with him it's an  
obsession I seem unable to control. Neither duration nor intensity.  
I would keep him all to myself. No need with trying to keep up appearances now. I would leave  
the continent with him. Take him to, maybe, europe.  
But he's not ready yet. It's still too soon. We're in a state of transition. I've just returned to  
his life. And he still feels insecure. He has to keep up the appearance of not being willing to  
throw away his current life to follow me wherever I go. Trying not to make it too easy for me.  
Having me atone. And he can have all the atonement he wants.  
So I have to put up with him spending most of the day with Jack. Leaving the house when Alanna  
comes to visit. I feel quite jealous of her. A trait also not exactly common for me. Not that I think  
Will would still have an even remotely romantic interest in her, but it's all the time she gets to  
spend with him. The way he trusts her. How unlike Jack, she's always welcome in his house. And  
I'm the something that's got to give. Yet, at the end of the day it is I who gets to see him.  
In bad condition they send him back to me. Eyes hollow, dissheveled. Craving for my attention.  
For my affection. And later on he looks even more dissheveled, though his eyes aren't hollow  
any longer.  
I can't comprehend how Alanna had been able to turn him away. She of all persons, who, like  
me, is able to fully grasp how special he is. How wonderfully complex and intricate.  
When I think about how I felt inside my cell, I can almost believe that love exists. That it isn't just  
a series of bodily reactions, a discharge of semiochemicals dictated by evolution.  
He looks at me with those tired, searching eyes. Full of trust that I'm the one that's going to save  
him. He leans against me and I place a hand against his neck, letting it wander up into his hair.  
It's an enourmous pleasure, whose significance I'm fully appreciating, to be able to touch him  
again. He might consider himself damaged goods. A chipped teacup. But dear Will never understood  
that special is something good. Because the chipped teacup we keep has far more meaning  
than the pristine new one, looking like all the other sets, we'll throw away without second thought.

***************************

His night clothes are sweat soaked, so are the beddings around him. Damp locks are clinging to  
his forehead. He shudders. Looking at me with without really seeing.  
A common sight since he's started working on regular cases again. And in Will's field of work,  
regular means not regular at all. I should probably feel insulted that my case is no longer the priority,  
but it's playing into my hands far too well right now, with the noose around us slowly widening again.  
"It's okay, Will. It's just me." I hold him, trying not to scare him, while he finds his way back to  
reality. I'm not used to this any longer. And it makes me wonder how many nightmares and  
sleepwalking I've missed, how many times it was Molly or no one at all at his side when he woke  
up. I feel a deep sense of regret.  
I get up to hand him a new shirt, while he takes of the old one, wiping the sweat off face and  
body with it before he throws it on the floor. I silently frown at the shirt and pick it up, before I  
get back on the bed. He mumbles something about bits and pieces under his skin. He knows he  
isn't talking coherently, but it doesn't matter because those things wouldn't make sense even if  
he did. I feel the taut muscles under his skin. Still strained. Still working. Trying to get away from  
a danger that isn't really there.  
I put my arms around him, resting his head in the crook of my neck. Slowly I feel his heartbeat  
slow down against my chest. His arms wrap around me, his fingers curling into my shirt. He releases  
a deep breath.  
I disentangle us enough so I can look at him, one of my hands cupping his face, my thumb running  
over his chin. "Do you want a glass of water?"  
He only shakes his head, pulling me closer again.  
I remember my words to Jack: »He doesn't put himself back together. I do.« Finally I've returned  
to where I'm supposed to be.

*********************

I'm rather bored. Spending most of my time in Will's house, without Will, but instead in the  
constant company of his dogs turns out to be more difficult than expected.  
I'd like to call Bedelia. I doubt she'd call the police if only because she knows that after that  
I'll inevitably kill her. Sooner or later.  
It's sad that my list of business cards is now stored with the other evidence from my case. It  
would take my mind of my boredom. But on the other hand, I'd made a promise to Will,  
grudgingly but nevertheless. Not that I consider my word binding on this matter, but if I'd lie to  
him he'd know.  
One of the bigger dogs, Winston (though I refer to them by the universal term of "dog"), nudges  
my leg with a frisbee in his mouth. Apparently he expects me, additional to feeding him, to entertain  
him all day. While I have no one to entertain me.  
"Bad dog." I try to push him away with my leg. The dog only gets closer drooling on my leg over  
his frisbee. These pants are Italian silk. Exceptionally hard to come by if you can't visit your usual  
tailor because you're wanted for murder. The dog doesn't care.  
"Go away!" Now he starts to bark. Bouncing up and down on the floor.  
"Dog. I'll only warn you this once." It's completely normal for people with scarce social contacts to talk  
to animals, plants or inanimate objects. The dog laughs at me, or maybe he's yawning.  
I pick the frisbee up with pointed fingers, throwing it out the door in disgust. The dog runs after it with  
delight.  
Will doesn't even begin to imagine the depths of my love.

**********************

Will is angry with Jack when he gets home. I can tell it by the way, his features aren't just set  
in fixed tension over the horrors he's seen today but in the tightness of his jaw that shows he's  
clenching his teeth.  
"How are things at work?"  
I only get something between a mumble and a growl as an answer. So things seem to be pretty  
bad. Of course he still struggles to fit into his team after such a long time, though of course he's  
never really fit in. I'm looking forward to the day his continuing alienation from Jack will make him  
quit. I still have a certain amount of appreciation for Alanna. Nevertheless any of them is basically  
stealing time I could have spend with him.

"Jack wants to close the case." The first words after a dinner in uncomfortable silence. "He thinks  
it's my fault that we haven't found you yet. I can't even really blame him, can I? He thinks I'm afraid  
of getting into your mind given our »former relationship«." He takes another bite of the anchovy-  
almond salad with a peppermint vingraitte before continuing.  
"Would you kill him for me?"  
"Yes." I answer without hesitation. Only moments later I see the trap, but elation had me blinded  
for a second too long. He lashes out as he's been waiting to since he came home.  
"Of course you would!" He shakes his head with a dismissive snort. "Why do I even ask. As if there  
was even the ghost of a chance that you'd change!" His face turns from snarling to suspicious,  
searching. A bitter grin curls his mouth. "If I'd call the cops now, what would you do?"  
"I think we're past that point by now, Will." There's barely any situation in the field of relationship  
ending events we haven't been through yet.  
"Answer my fucking question!" I seldom hear him use such language, except maybe in bed, though  
he's changed a lot since I showed up at his door with breakfast that fateful morning and he told me  
»he didn't find me that interesting«. If he thinks I had the bigger impact on his life than he on mine, he  
couldn't be more wrong.  
I decide to humor him and answer truthfully. "I would leave and wait for another chance to approach  
you."  
"And if I'd stop you? If I pointed my gun at you? Would you kill me?!"  
"Do you think me capable of killing you?"  
"Would you rather go back to jail than kill me?!" He looks at me anger mixed with apprehension,  
nervously swallowing, his adams apple moving periodically.  
"Yes." While I sooner or later would find new means of escape, there's no replacement for Will.  
I can hardly believe that he doesn't see the pattern of him still being alive in between all the corpses  
I produced without second thought.  
"Yeah, right." He laughs harshly. "I guess" He gets up leaning against the counter of the kitchen. "it would  
be a good foundation for a relationship if there is trust between the parties involved." He stops, rubbing his  
eyes with the heels of his palms. He sighs wearily. "I'm not even really mad at you." I see part of the anger  
draining from his face. "It's just work..I.." An acerbic quality returns to his features. "I wonder sometimes.  
What surprises you have in stock for me this time."  
I get up too, following him to the counter, yet keeping the distance he needs now.  
"How can I scatter your doubts?"  
"You can't that's the problem." He pinches the bridge of his nose before he looks at me again. "I love  
you." He says it like it's regretful news. "So just..don't." I see mood the tipping over again, before he snaps.  
"Don't! Don't ever do that to me again!" He punches against my chest, desperation clear in his voice. "Don't  
ever again make me doubt if I can trust you! Don't ever make me fear that you'll betray me again!"  
He's angry with me and he has every right to. My sense for self-preservation that kicked in before  
I was even able to grasp what for long by then had crept onto me. Slowly turning my priorities.  
It couldn't be, I thought at that time.  
In the end I couldn't fullfill my promise to Bedelia. The pressure of my personal and professional  
relationships with Will grew too great. And surely I took all the right messures to relieve them.  
All meticulously planned in advance. Nothing left to chance. And it seemed to have worked out  
so well. When all the time I'd thought I'd fooled everyone, most of all Will, I came to realise that  
the joke was on me. And no refusal to accept the situation would change a thing about it.  
You've lain in waiting months, setting the traps, cornering your prey a little more with every day,  
hunting down your prize with skill and precision. And finally you have the bird in the cage and  
you realise you want him anywhere but there.  
But there's no point in self-accusations and only so much denial to go by. Especially as a psychiatrist  
you have to accept yourself of all people, as you are. It wasn't the first need I gave in to and accepted  
as part of my person. But it was the first time I experienced defeat.  
"Will, let me tell you something about my person. I have several traits that others might consider  
problematic, but cruelty against myself is not among them."  
"And what am I supposed to learn from that tale?" He asks with a strained voice. I have to laugh  
at that. It's cute how little he understands. How he's so angry with me he refuses to emphasize.  
"Though I sometimes make stupid decisions when under pressure...Or maybe it's just you." He  
gapes at me.  
I chuckle. "You've set your mind to not understanding me tonight." I like everything about him. And  
not just a little bit. Never just a little. I'm hard to scare, but this...I don't like being robbed of control.  
Nobody likes that, but with me it's close to neurotic, as Bedelia often told me. It would be an understatement  
that this change of plans was most unwelcome.  
Abigail just laughed at me (after she'd yelled at me that is). She informed me that she could have told  
me that this was a bad idea, if I'd confided in her about my plans. I think it was something along the lines  
of "You think you actually love him? Newsflash! Duh.". A little crude for my taste, but she had a point.  
This moved past the point of affection so fast. Past the point of moderation...Even past the point  
of obsession by far.  
"What does it tell you that you're still alive? And let me give you a hint, it's not that I am bad at anatomy."

*********************

»I feel I failed to satisfy my obligation to Will. More than I care to admit.«  
Possibly the truest words I've ever spoken to Jack. Fools rush in. But it's hard to deal with finding  
a heart where you didn't expect one. In my case I usually only expect them in sauce on a plate.  
If I've learned anything from those events, it's listening to a bad feeling. This bad feeling hasn't  
turned out too bad as it is. Only with five years delay.  
But who knows if things had turned out this way if Will had found out any other way. He needed  
his time to come to terms.  
I could have done without my extended stay at Dr. Chilton's institution, though, but I guess the same  
goes for Will.

****************************

"What are we going to be, Hannibal? What can we possibly be?"  
We're sitting on the veranda to the backyard of his house. The sun is already down, but it's still  
warm. It's an unusually peaceful moment. We sit on the stairs, (given that the dogs drag their dirt  
everywhere in the house anyway, my insistance for chairs in this situation has long since ceased).  
He sits by my side, his back leaning against my shoulder and chest, his hands busy petting on of  
the dogs. I know them all by name of course, given that these days I spend more time with them  
than Will, nevertheless I refuse to admit it. Will thinks I'm ridiculous, a term I've so far never  
been even remotely associated with.  
I give his question the appropriate consideration before I answer.  
"What would you like us to be?"  
He rolls his eyes. Of course, the typical answer of a psychiatrist. Seemingly he's decided not to bother  
with even answering the question.  
"Well, you have two options. Stay with me or arrest me."  
"You forget the a third. You could just leave."  
"Oh, no." I shake my head amused at the thought. "I'm not going to leave."  
"At least you don't have issues with your self-esteem."  
His chuckle vibrates against my chest.

********************

I can hear them arguing in front of the house.  
"Dammit! You're not my dad, Jack! Don't act like you are!"  
It gives me a bit of a thrill, being so close when Jack is out there and completely oblivious to  
how close he's come.  
"Can't I worry about a friend?"  
"Jack, I'm not your friend. I'm your best asset at work. I'll grant you a certain interpersonal  
concern for me as a fellow human being. But, you're not my friend. Alanna is my friend. She  
at least didn't believe that I did those murders knowingly. You accepted that I was a dangerous  
psychopath the second Dr. Lecter explained it to you plausible enough.  
"Will, that was five years ago."  
"You know who you're real friends are, once you see a cell from the inside, pumped up with  
ataractics."  
"I'm sorry, Will. You know I am."  
"Me too, Jack."  
With that he turns around and leaves Jack standing there.

"He's worried about you." I say when he comes in, showing the commonly considered appropriate  
amount of concern for a relationship of his that isn't with me.  
"Yeah, well, we've seen how much he worries about me in the past." He pauses and already I  
see the anger leaving him. He's far too nice for his own good. That's why people are taking  
advantage of him. People like me and Jack. Though, I at least, can claim for myself, that this time  
I have only his best interest in mind.  
"Am I a bad person for not forgiving him when I've forgiven you?"  
I can't help but put my arms around him, putting a kiss to his shock of curls that's far too beautiful  
for such a mess. On the other hand what about him isn't a mess?  
"I don't care whether you're a good or a bad person. Whatever suits you best."  
I am rewarded with a little laugh.  
"But I do care." He says ruefully.  
He's too beautiful for his own good too.  
"Shut up." I say as overly fond as I've only ever been of him. And then. "I love you."  
I kiss him. 

****************************

"Because I'm the only one you truly want to be understood by."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've read it. You might as well comment. (⌒▽⌒)☆


	4. Wild Mushroom and Chestnut Cottage Pie with a Cream of Winter Squash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New killer. New trouble. Their relationship hits rock bottom once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I was suffering from writer's block. ^///^°

And I wanna leave  
And you wanna leave  
But we don't  
Cause the love keeps us together

(Trey Songz - Heart Attack)

********************

There's a new one in town, who's taking an unhealthy interest in Will. I don't like others trying to get his attention,  
when truly I'm the only one who has the right and the ability to achieve that.  
And now he's gotten my attention, because I don't share. And I don't like people to threaten what is mine.   
Will might have his suspicions, but I doubt the no-kills rule applies in this case. One might even consider it community  
service. And if it means Will might get a good nights sleep for a change, even the better.

*********************

He looks worse. If he hadn't had a check-up recently I'd think it was encephalitis again. I talked to him about letting go.  
About a healthy distance to work.  
But I am wasting my breath. Again his mind is full of mangled corpses and faces of the people they once were. He's tense when  
he gets home (His'? Ours?), distant. He's feeling guilty when I point it out. I have no need for him feeling guilty, so I let   
him fare as he likes, while he compulsively continues to destroy himself. Maybe some day I have to dispose of Jack.   
This matter as unfortunate as it is, has it's good sides too. The hunt for me, though not remotely over, has been pushed aside   
in favor of this new monster. The constant attention on Will has lifted. And I? I'm am considered to have left the state if not   
the continent. Which I would have, if it wasn't for my dear, difficult, unreasonable Will.  
So now the times of sneaking around in Motels, I normally wouldn't set foot in (though a more romantic soul might consider the   
arragement charming), are blessedly over. And once again I find myself quite at home at Will's house.  
"Are you laughing at me?" Will's voice rips me from my musing, which I would consider nothing but fond, and I find myself confronted  
by his hovering between annoyed and amused expression.  
"About you, Will? Surely not."

I hold him at night, after he's a whole other lot of exhausted, lying spent in my arms. My fingers trace the scar on his side. My last,  
and I admit desperate attempt to claim what would inevitably be ripped from my hands. He shivers against me, pressing closer. Yes, he's  
needy tonight. I press a kiss to his neck. They found another body today. This time a child.  
He says he sleeps better when I'm there.  
The scar on his face unlike the one on his side, does bother me. Not for asthetical reasons. No. It's the claim another person than me has  
made on him. It's the sign someone got as close as only I should ever be allowed to. I miscalculated horribly at that time. Though I concede   
it wasn't my best time back then. Having Will so close again. Talking to me. The need to touch him driving me crazy. Craving. It's the only   
word fitting my state in that time. In my attempt not to loose his attention so fast, I decided rashly. In retrospective it still chagrines  
me that I wasn't able to kill the late Mr. Dolarhyde myself.  
But Will is all mine again. Utterly. Completely. And this time without games, without lies. He's chosen me. And he's going to be mine till  
the day he dies. And that, I'll make sure, will be a very distant day.  
He mumbles something about possesiveness, playfully slapping my hand away. It's everytime astounding again, how good he knows me. He always   
claims it's hard to read me, but even at times like this, when he's half asleep, he's got me quite figured out. I guess I've lost the advantage  
of lies. Though, I have to admit, it's actually quite nice to be loved for who you are. Sentimentalities I wouldn't have thought myself capaple   
of. But I guess will brings out the best in me. I have to chuckle. That's almost cheesy. Though Will claims, I bring out the worst in him.

**********************

It's the second time the killer has send body parts to Will's home adress. Jack has raised the   
security level so much, it's short of every one of Will's dogs having his own police officer assigned.  
This events have made it near impossible for me to see him. Well, see him I do. But that's it.  
And that is inacceptable. Will has been worn thin by this case enough as it is. And my patience  
has thinned considerably since my imprisonment, I realised.  
So, this killer, has now accomplished to become a personal problem of mine.

**********************

Longdistance binoculars have made themselves inexpendable by now. Alanna stops her car in  
his driveway. He answers the door. One of his newest strays in his arms. He's been crying.  
Alanna hugs him. They go inside. The door closes.  
I shall bring this case to completion shortly.

***********************

Will's face is tense when I show up at his house after they found the body parts I kindly left   
them.  
He doesn't say a thing about it, well aware that it probably saved a lot of lives. But he still  
can't approve of it.  
I know I acted against the one demand he'd made towards me. I've broken the rules. We're both   
struggling. Trying to decide whether to move closer or away. We're both angry the other doesn't  
understand. We shouldn't have to question our whole relationship because of the death of one  
serial killer. We should talk, but we don't.

I don't stay that night.

***********************

Our daily routine has us back, one could say. Breakfast together, then he goes to work, in the evening  
I already have dinner ready.  
Only when I arrive now, I can tell that he thinks about just sending me away. But he can't. And we both  
know it. So we just continue like nothing is wrong, pretending not to see the claft between us getting   
bigger and bigger.

***********************

Now that we finally have each other back, the loneliness seems too much to take. It makes me take chances  
that could cost us everything.  
I use a disposable phone, of course. And drive two cities away. It's good to hear her voice again. She   
sounds calm and collected. I expected nothing less of her.  
"Hannibal. How are you?"  
Not 'Where are you?', she's a smart woman.  
"I'm fine. Thank you, Bedelia. How are you?"  
A short intake of breath. Did she expect something else?  
"I'm well, thank you. Why are you calling?"  
She's grabbed her pen and her notebook now. I can hear it.  
"I lack partners for conversation lately. I thought we could talk about my most notorious guilty pleasure."  
"Will Graham, I assume."  
"You assumed correctly."  
"I hope you don't plan on doing anything to him."  
"What could I possibly do to him?" I have to laugh. "I adore him."  
"Well, I remember at least one occassion where you stabbed him."  
I chuckle. I was far more hurt back then, than he was. And I'm not talking about bullet wounds.  
"Would you describe your relationship to Will so far, as healthy?"  
"Not in the textbook way, maybe." I concede. "How is he?"  
"I have no idea."  
"Oh, but I think you have. I'm sure the FBI relies on your vast knowledge of my personality."  
"Alright." Her voice softens. I wonder whether she has FBI agents around right now. "How about I tell you  
something about him and you tell me something about you?"  
"Very well."  
"He is back working with the FBI."  
Not what I want to know, but we'll go slowly.  
"Where are you right now, Hannibal?"  
"North America." It's no fun, if they're completely wrong.  
"Not Europe? Why is that?"  
Ask Will. I'd rather be there myself.  
"Can't you tell? How is he?" I emphazise the 'how' this time.  
"He seems to be getting better slowly buts it's a roaller coaster ride. Recently the progress he's made seems to  
regress. What are you doing, Hannibal? Sight-seeing?"  
"You could call it that. Though it's nothing new. What do you think this set back stems from?"  
"I think he lacks personal relationships. His friendship with Jack might never recuperate. I think the only   
person he has left to talk to is Alanna. Are you working, currently? Do you plan to stay where you are?"  
"I don't know about this specific location. I'm hoping for a permanent engagement, though. Do you think I'm capable  
of having a healthy relationship?"  
"Have you met someone?"  
"It is complicated."  
"Hannibal! You mustn't involve someone in your life. If you care about them, end it!"  
"Don't worry, I'm not interested in people other than Will."  
"Hannibal, you should get yourself help. We could meet somewhere. You can name the place."  
"As always, it was a pleasure talking to you." I disconnect. This wasn't as insightful as I had hoped. Well, it's   
hard to get advice about a topic you can't overtly name.

***********************

He's lost again, when he gets home. Features defined by the personality of someone else. He doesn't want  
me to see. He doesn't want my help this time. 'Stay away!', stands unsaid in the room.  
I'm in the kitchen finishing the dessert for dinner. Dark chocolate baskets filled with cinnamon mousse   
with a hint of orange zest. Bittersweet.  
My day dedicated to reflection has brought me no revelation. From a professional perspective I can say that  
the main issue is probably trust. But what can be done about that?  
He stands in front of the mirror, looking at himself fixedly, as if he's never seen that face before.  
I trust him. Maybe he can emphazise my feeling of trust for him.  
I move closer, standing behind him.  
"Do you want to talk?"  
He lets out a harsh laugh, looking at himself without recognition.  
"How am I supposed to talk about myself, when I'm not even sure who I am right now? These days I think it's  
easier to be one of them instead of dealing with my own fucked up life."  
"It's normal to feel the need to escape reality, during difficult periods in life."  
"Is it?" He snorts. "I have to wonder though. Maybe little parts stick each time and one day I'll be gone  
completely."  
"It's okay Will. I know you. I will always bring you back."  
"How could you know me? I don't even know you."  
"Oh no, Will. Maybe the last time, but not this time. You've got no excuse. You came back  
knowing quite well what you were getting yourself into. Every gruesome little detail. Don't  
fool yourself. I didn't force you to it. So, don't say you don't know me."  
He is mad. His kiss is hard, when his lips hit mine.  
My kiss tastes of frustration. His kiss tastes of pent up anger. Jack and Bedelia are stupid to think I could  
ever give up on him. Will and I don't hear the word 'no' when it comes to the other.  
He moves away, still angry, searching for words. I just look at him. He looks at me with huge eyes, pupils blown.  
I know it and he's just realized it. The moment to end it is gone again.  
As hard as things might be at present it's still so much better than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've read it. You might as well comment.


	5. Kaiserschmarrn with Baked Apple in a Sauce of Caramelized Brown Sugar and Fruit Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Chesapeake Ripper has claimed another victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nearly Christmas time, so this time a more christmassy dish! ^.^
> 
> Also, sorry if I messed up some of the th's and rd's behind the digits. As some might have guessed by now I'm not   
> originally English/American. I tried. ╮ (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ╭ (You can't look up everything on Google. Though you can try.)

 

Whatever it is, it's just sitting there laughing at me  
And I just wanna scream

What now, I just can't figure it out  
What now,  
I guess, I'll just wait it out  
What now, please tell me, what now

I don't know where to go  
I don't know what to feel  
I don't know how to cry  
I don't know, oh, oh why, so what now?

(Rihanna - What now)

**********************  
DECEMBER THE 7th, 09:03 AM

This is probably my last chance to call for back-up, after that it's just him and me. I don't.

When I enter the room, the first thing I see are her big, frightened eyes. I've never before seen her  
really frightened. Not even back then with Francis Dolarhyde.  
I can see it in her eyes. She knows she is going to die.

**********************  
NOVEMBER THE 5th, 05:13 AM

The Chesapeake Ripper has claimed another victim. Or so it seems.

**********************  
NOVEMBER THE 5th, 01:20 PM

"I can't believe you did this! After everything! After everything I've done for you! Everything I could  
lose because of you!"  
"If you're refering to the newest murder, I can assure you that my conscience is clean."  
"I bet! As clean as the kitchen after you finished cooking. You were always good a cleaning up!"  
"Will, since we met again, have I ever lied to you?"  
"I don't know. I really don't know."  
"That's that then, I guess." Hannibal looks at me, sadly. "I should be happy you haven't brought the  
police with you, shouldn't I?" His face goes pensive," Why haven't you?"  
It's a justified question, I should probably ask myself. Why haven't I? I was 98% convinced that he did  
it since I saw the crime scene this morning. In all this time it didn't occur to me even once to inform  
the authorities. Instead I went home arguing about it, like it was an issue in our relationship rather  
than a major crime.  
He dares to look offended by my accusations. Accusation is probably the wrong word. Accusation would imply  
that there's the possibility that he didn't do it.  
But I'm not as stupid as I was a few years ago. I know that there's absolutely no remorse inside him for  
nothing. Except maybe in my case. But that's a different story, I'm still not sure how exactly that works.  
Hannibal, polite as always, waits until I finish my mental raving, before he continues speaking.  
"I reckon it would be best if I leave now. You know where to find me, in case you change your mind, or want  
to send the authorities after me."  
Coming from any other person it would sound bitchy, but he, standing there in his immaculate suit and coiffure  
(I'm still wondering where he gets those, given that he's wanted nationally), sounds like he means exactly what  
he said.

**********************  
NOVEMBER THE 5th, 05:05 PM

I hate him. I truly hate him. He left exactly three hours and five minutes ago. And I'm sitting over the, by now  
cold dinner he's left. Did I need this? No, I most definitely did not.  
I've still got a killer to catch. If he didn't stop this time, he will never stop. Could I live with that? Probably  
not. But what's the alternative? That I'm going to die with only my dogs and countless scars to keep me company?  
What if I did consider for a second that he's telling the truth, that he didn't do it?  
Yeah, sure, this time it's really a copycat. I'm a profiler, that's my job, if something at the crimescene didn't fit  
Hannibal's style, I would have seen it. But everything was perfect. Perfectly laid out like one of his dinners.  
My mouth feels dry. The food seems to crumble to powder on my tongue.  
I have to see the crimescene again.

**********************  
NOVEMBER THE 6th, 09:17 AM

I look at the corpse, lying there in front of me. I look at the cuts, in my mind I see it clearly. I see  
exactly how he did it. I see how he approached her, I see how he slid the knife into her, I feel it. I  
feel exactly how he felt. I can feel the thrill, the satisfaction, it's so good I have to stifle a moan.  
I relish the blood running over my fingers. It's all perfect. It has to be perfect. I slice the body open  
with care, without haste. I lick a droplet of blood from my fingers. I catch the look of my reflection in  
the mirror. It smiles back at me confidently.  
"Will?" Alanna's careful voice.  
I back away from the gurney.  
"Did you need something?"  
"I just came by, to see how you're doing, now that he's killing again."  
I smile forced, "He was your friend too."  
She smiles, compassionately.  
"He was a little more than that to you."  
Can't fault that. Except possibly the use of past tense.  
"It is him, right?" She asks.  
"It is him." I might as well stop lying to myself.

**********************  
NOVEMBER THE 11th, 03:43 PM

The hope in his eyes, that flashes up upon my arrival, is quickly doused when he catches a look at  
my face.  
The resolve with which he commits himself to whatever his crazy boyfriend has in store for him drives  
me mad. Yeah, I'm the really crazy one of us two, ain't I?

"You're killing me! Can't you see that?! With every day this continues."  
"As I already told you, it wasn't me. And if you can't tell that yourself, I really don't know what  
we've been doing all the time."  
I've hurt him. Or, at least, he's giving the impression of being hurt. I have no illusions about the  
depths he would go to, to keep me by his side. Lies are only the frosting on this exceptionally  
nasty cake.

I wish I could believe him. But I'm really not sure. And this time there's no encephalitis dulling  
my brain. The crime scenes looked the same. The same style. The same air. The same display of arrogance  
and mock. I've looked. Believe me I looked long and hard. I couldn't find one detail that would have  
made me believe it was a copycat. And honestly Hannibal's not in the position to demand loyality and  
blind trust. I told him so. And now he's gone. I wonder if he will come back. I wonder if there'll be  
another body.

***********************  
NOVEMBER THE 13th, 00:07 AM

"Will? We need you here."  
The message is short and I have the coordinates of the crime scene on my cellphone two seconds later.

It's an elementary school. I consider turning around and driving back home, but Jack has already spotted  
me. The press arrived before me, as always. Jack leads me through the already assembled team of forensics,  
detectives and officers, securing the crime scene. By the gap that forms wherever we pass, one could think  
I've got leprosy. I'm used to it, yet I haven't found it in me to stop caring.

Thank God! It's not a child. It's a teacher. Of course, there wouldn't be any children there at this time of  
day. I see her when I enter the art class room. Young. Pretty. Long, curled, brown hair. I don't realize what's  
on her at first. For a second I think it's dried blood. All over her, from her face, down her body. She's naked.  
I figure it out when I walk through the room to the large table where the works are laid out to dry. It's linocut.  
At first I didn't see all the shallow cuts on her body, that seemingly changed the texture of her skin on the  
life-sized imprint of her, caught in black ink. Most prominent beside her face, the gaping hole where he cut her  
liver out.

It is 11.32 pm when Jack breaks my compulsive staring at the crime scene photos.  
"Go home, Will. Go home."  
It's meant nicely, but there's always this touch, like he's always ready for some sort of outbreak on my side.

My car's the last one left at the parking lot, when I leave an hour later.

***********************  
NOVEMBER THE 13th, 06:20 AM

A maid comes now daily to feed my dogs, while I'm at work. One more aspect to point out that Hannibal is gone.  
I sit down by my dogs with a bowl of cornflakes.  
I could call him. I could apologize. I could make him apologize to me. He would. But what point is there, when  
we both know.  
Telling me again and again won't stop me from trying to proof me wrong, though.

I go to bed with the case files of the old Chesapeake Ripper cases to share my bed. I repeat in my mind what  
I know about the new cases and meticulously compare it to the pattern. And the pattern fits. It fits every  
single time.

***********************  
NOVEMBER THE 23rd, 11:54 AM

No matter how much I dedicate my mind to finding an indication for a copycat. It won't stop the questions,  
which by now are wellknown companions of mine, that infinte loop inside my head. Whether I sleep or wake.  
What if it is him?  
How far am I willing to go for him?  
What's left for me if I forsake him?  
I could not be with him and know that he still kills people! Or could I?  
If it is him I have to give him up.  
And with everyday it becomes more and more undisputable that it indeed is him.

***********************  
NOVEMBER THE 25th, 07:30 PM

"Detective Graham! I've been waiting for you." Freddie Lounds flashes me one of her usual sassy smiles.  
"I don't have time for you, Ms. Lounds."  
"That's a shame, really. I thought maybe you wanted to tell your side of the story before I publish the  
book."  
"What book?" I think I can guess.  
"'Meat - The story of Hannibal Lecter'," she announces, proudly.  
"Are you asking to die, Ms. Lounds?" I ask, a grimace of wearyness on my face. I know what comments like that  
could cost me. But the point of me caring, was passed somewhere between the first and the second victim.  
"Is that a threat?" She asks, happily, getting her notepad ready.  
"Do you really consider me the biggest threat around?"  
She throws back her red curls in a laugh.  
It's nice that she can still find it in her to laugh about all this. Maybe she's far more crazy than the rest of  
us. Or she really thinks this little notepad of hers makes her immortal. Which again, would result in more crazy  
then the rest of us.  
"If you change your mind, give me a call." She turns around once more. "I would really die to have an interview  
with Lecter, but I'll settle for the next best thing."

***********************  
DECEMBER THE 3rd, 05:13 AM

The third victim. The heart is missing this time. First the lungs. Second the liver. Could it be a  
homage to the Ripper? Or is someone just using the opportunity of his escape? Don't fool  
yourself, Will. There's only one copycat around and you know him well.  
"Will? Are you okay? Did you loose time again?"  
Startled I look up at Jack from the corpse on the gurney.  
"No, I was just...doing my thing. I'm fine, Jack."  
Did you lose time again, Will? It's become the standard question people direct at me. What are you  
getting, Will? Would you like milk in your coffee? Did you lose time again?

************************  
DECEMBER THE 6th, 10:37 PM

When I look through the window of my car I see pristine, white vastness outside. Beautiful and sparkling. The  
treetops dipped in white. I see the lights illuminating the houses I pass by.  
For a moment I wonder whether I have some christmas candles somewhere at home. Is it really a time to celebrate?

I come home to a dark house. I take some cheese & macaroni frome the freezer to heat them up in the microwave.  
I'm busy perforating the lid with a fork, when I hear someone enter the kitchen. The package is unceremoniously  
ripped from my hands.  
"There's no need for you to eat such junk."  
He starts unpacking his groceries as if we'd never even had our argument.  
"Oh yeah, you mean compared to, I don't know, a healthy dish of human flesh?" I can't bite down the acrid remark.  
The skin is still much too thin over that flesh wound. Pun not intended.  
"Feel free to check my shopping bags. Unless of course you're afraid I might have hidden my emergency stash of  
human organs inside your house."  
I check the bags. As always these last weeks, only vegetables, couscous and some tofu. It appears to me as  
incredible unjust that I'm the one feeling like an asshole now.

Dinner is tense. We barely talk, aside from "Hand me the sauce, please".  
I can't escape from work at home. It's not just work anymore. But that's how it is. It's a lot harder when it's  
personal. When it's your lover.

What am I supposed to do? Just ride out this wave? This is no condition to live in. Even if it wasn't him, he's  
still wanted by the FBI. One day we'll slip and then we're both going down.

Winston comes running in, wearing a sparkling reindeer antler headband. Hannibal doesn't even blink.  
I can't send him away. I don't want to, simple as that.

************************  
DECEMBER THE 7th, 07:21 AM

When the phone wakes me, I'm alone in the bed. My hand momentarily wanders over the vacant surface.  
I recognize Freddie Lound's number, before I answer.  
She says it's about the book. It's important, something that could get me in trouble. Her voice is  
wrong though. Hannibal has her. A trap. What kind of trap is this? A test, maybe?  
My thumb wavers over Jack's phone number. I don't. I'm willing to gamble with her life.

************************  
DECEMBER THE 7th, 07:53 AM

I try to call his cell five times on my way to the location Freddie named. Voicemail. Every single time.

************************  
DECEMBER THE 7th, 07:57 AM

I'm willing to gamble with Freddie Lound's life, yet I packed my gun. What does that say? Am I going to  
arrest him? Really?  
On the other hand, if this ends with just an arrest it would be a positive outcome.

*************************  
DECEMBER THE 7th, 09:15 AM 

"What's her life to you? You hate her! I'm doing you a favor!" He still holds the scalpel to Freddie's  
throat and I already see her, lying on the floor like Abigail, the life gushing out of her. "Can't you  
see it, Will?! I love you!"  
"You don't love me." I shake my head in disgust.  
"Don't say that!" His voice cracks "Come on, we'll eat her brain." He's got his voice back under  
control, low and seductive.

And all the time all I can think is "Thank God, it isn't him." And it takes all my self-control to stop  
the smile that is starting to spread over my face. And then I have an idea.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment!!! Remember, you're also allowed to write criticism. ( ´ ▽ ` )b


	6. Soy Meat Loaf in Sesame Sauce with Baked Pear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter!
> 
> Will tries to save Hannibal, knowing quite well that if he fails he'll ruin both their lives.  
> One trial that will decide it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the final chapter, I know it took quite a long time.^///^°
> 
> There will be lots of switches in the point of view (first person Will, first person Hannibal, first-person several others, and third Person) I'm not trying to confuse everybody, it was simply necessary for the storyline and yes, I also like switches in point of view. xD
> 
> WARNING: contains homophobic language. None of the opinions expressed by the members of the jury are my own.

************************

Cause you're a sky  
Cause you're a sky full of stars  
I'm gonna give you my heart

Cause you get lighter  
the more it gets dark  
I'm gonna give you my heart

Cause in sky full of stars  
I think I see you

You're such a heavenly view.

(Coldplay - sky full of stars)

************************

I watch Hannibal sitting there in the witness stand in the orange jumpsuit they made him wear, hands and  
feet securely shackled. I wince as I look at the muzzle. It's insulting. Really.  
The rows are jammed with people. The reporters milling over each other, desperate to get a good shot of  
Hannibal. Or me.  
In the first row the families of the victims sit, faces drawn, eyes dark and furious. I sit in the first  
row too. To a certain point I qualify as a victim as well. That's not the reason, though.  
Behind me my colleagues sit. I can feel their angry stares burning into the back of my head, just as Alanna's  
confused and hurt expression. They don't believe one word I'm saying. They don't have to.  
It isn't yet me sitting in the prisoners dock. It might be soon enough though.  
Jack blames himself, as he should. Beverly thinks I've finally gone round the bend. Zeller and Price just  
think I should be put in jail as well.

************************

It's my turn now. As I walk up to the stand a certain calm settles over me. Alea iacta est.  
The DA looks at me with a mix between disgust and pity. He doesn't believe one word either.  
But, God bless America, we have a jury.  
I deliver my speech, cringing with guilt for not having seen it earlier, for having had doubt.  
I'm distressed and yet so very sincere. So serious and credible. Poor misunderstood, mistreated  
Will, who always just wanted to do the right thing. I see the faces in the jury creasing into  
worried, sympathetic lines. What happened here? The maybe most substantial case in the history  
of gruesome murder, or the most prominent case of misjudgement in the history of jurisdiction?  
That's the good thing about being the good guy. People believe you.

I look at the members of the jury and I know who they are, every single one of them. I see them leave  
their houses in the morning. How they say goodbye to their families. I see the lines that speak of a  
marriage turned cold. I see the twitch that speaks of personal problems they don't speak of. I can read  
them. I can be them. I sit there twenty times, fidgeting, thinking about wanting to go home, wondering  
if my wife is cheating on me. I know every little word every little implication that will make my words  
go deep in their minds, setting the root for reasonable doubt.

As I leave the stand the DA whispers to me, voice all barely contained fury, "If you go through with  
this I'll make sure you go down for accessory to murder. And there won't be plead of insanity for you."  
"We all can only hope justice will prevail."

************************  
DECEMBER THE 7th, 09:16 AM 

It's morally wrongest thing I've ever done. And if I survive this I'm going to hell. Not to mention  
to jail if I miss.

"Why is it you are so obsessed with Freddy Lounds?" I ask, my voice full of suspicion and accussation.  
"What do you mean, Will?" He looks at me, befuddled, for a second he loses his train of thoughts.  
Well, it's time to change the rules of this encounter a little.  
"Why do you feel, she has earned it to be killed by you?!" I let a little more outrage seep into my  
voice, a little more hurt. "Me!" I point at my chest with an almost violent motion. "I am the only  
one you are allowed to worship with your blade." I put a possessive hand over the scar at my side.  
"Have you forgotten already, Hannibal?" I see his eyes jerk up to me, his gaze turning from hungrily  
watching the place my hand rests, to clashing with my eyes, in startled surprise and unanticipated joy.  
I have him at that moment, I know it.

**************************  
JANUARY THE 5th, 11:06 AM

I'm back at my cell. At least now I can get rid of this ridiculous muzzle and orange jumpsuit.  
I put all my trust in one person. It's an incredibly uneconomical thing to do. It wasn't a plan  
I would have chosen, even though I can see it's merits. All this now lies in Will's hands. Will's  
and 20 others'.  
I still can hardly comprehend how I got to this point. To the point where I would do something so stupid.  
But I've been prone to doing stupid things ever since I first set eyes on Will.

**************************  
DECEMBER THE 7th, 09:25 AM

"I give up! Don't!" He puts his hands above his head, looking more pitiful where he looked dangerous  
and deraved only seconds ago.  
I take a few steps back.  
"Get up!"  
He complies. I pull the trigger. Freddy Lounds takes a sharp breath. I turn to her.  
"What did you see?" My voice is calm, much like when I talk to a witness (the few times there were any).  
"He wouldn't give up." She replies instantly. "He attacked you. You had no other choice."  
"I'm glad you decided for once to tell the truth."  
She laughs. In another world she would have made a great serial killer.

***********************  
DECEMBER THE 7th, 03:19 PM

My lips disconnect from Hannibals only just.  
"I'm going to do something and all I ask is for you to trust me."

***********************  
DECEMBER THE 7th, 03:37 PM

The doors burst open with a SWAT-team storming in. They throw me to the floor, while I hear Will's  
voice, yelling at them that I was turning myself in.  
All he asked me to, was to trust him. And I did. And I do. All he asked me to, was to trust him. And that was all it needed, for me to throw my life away.

***********************  
NOW

"So, Dr. Lecter, would you again explain to the court why you confessed to the list of crimes  
attributed to the so-called Chesapeake Ripper?"  
"My lawyer, made it very clear, that under the weight of evidence, there was no chance for  
me to prove my innocence. I believe, a »witchhunt« is the correct term to describe a trial as  
the like of my own. I was assured that my best chances to avoid the death sentence would be  
to confess and plead insanity. Which, given my profession, wasn't that hard. My partner, Will  
Graham, will confirm, that he had told me about confidential details of the murders. For which  
he isn't at all to blame, considering that he was suffering from encephalitis at the time and was  
one of my patients. As it would seem, the real killer, tried to blame Agent Graham for his crimes  
first and as that didn't seem to work out, he choose me as his new scapegoat. His work was  
obviously very good, as he had both me and Agent Graham suspecting each other at times."

***********************

Bedelia and I lock gazes when she walks up to the stand. She nods at me imperceptably.  
I don't know why she does it. Maybe she really thinks she's Hannibal's friend. Maybe  
she thinks they'll blame her for not stopping him at some point. Maybe she wants the  
chance to study him some time longer.

************************

"That's bullshit! Lecter's the Chesapeake Ripper!" Zeller exclaims.  
"It makes no sense!" Price backs him up.  
"Maybe..." Alanna starts.

***********************

Freddy Lounds walks up to the stand, sneering at me as she walks past. She wrote an especially nasty  
article again last night. No one will doubt her testimony.

"Ms. Lounds, would give us your account of the events of the morning of the 7th of December?"  
"I was abducted by Steven Doyle."  
"The man who identified himself to you, as the Chesapeake Ripper?"  
"That's correct."  
"Under what circumstances did agent Graham got involved?"  
"I had to call him and lead him to the destination."  
"Please explain to the court what happened after agent Graham arrived."  
"Will Graham arrived there and managed to get the gun of Steven Doyle. Despite being warned multiple times Doyle attacked him and he had no other choice than to shoot him."  
"Thank you very much. One last question, do you believe Steven Doyle to have been the Chesapeake Ripper?"  
"No. He was just a copycat."

The DA returns to his seat, looking satisfied. Hannibal's attorney gets up. 

"Ms. Lounds, are you a professional profiler?"  
"No."  
"You're a journalist, right?"  
"That's correct."  
"On what evidence is your assumption, that Steven Doyle was a copycat, based?"  
"I've done a lot of research on the topic. I'm writing a book about the Chesapeake Ripper, or more precisely about Hannibal Lecter."  
"I see. And what evidence did you uncover that was missed by the authorities?"  
"Well… It is mainly based on interviews with the detectives working on the case and the psychiatrist that treated both Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter during their time at his clinic."  
"So your book, as well as your assumption is based on the general opinion expressed to the media?"

Freddy Lounds looks really pissed off by now and I feel myself smile for more than one reason.

************************

I watch him sitting there. Or more precisely, I watch his back. His shoulders that are tense the whole time. His hair that he seems to even comb these days, already looking disheveled again even though it's not even noon.  
I see him and he looks so desperate and I can't bring myself to not believe him. I can't believe he would do this, even though I know it must be true.  
Jack has been wrong about Will before. Back then I should have believed Will. Maybe this time I should, no matter how unlikely it is.  
It maybe never was love between us, but I care about him so deeply. And I really don't want to be his enemy any longer, even though he sees us all as such these days.

************************

"Agent Crawford, would you again explain to the court the steps in your investigation that lead to  
your arrest of Dr. Lecter."

The DA looks icredibly smug once Jack has finished his tale.  
"So, from your point of view, Agent Crawford, is Dr. Lecter guilty of the crimes that he was once  
before found guilty of?"  
"Definitely. I have no doubt about that."  
"What do you have to say to Agent Graham's doubts?"  
"He's involved with the delinquent. He's no longer able to assess the situation objectively."  
"Thank you. No further questions."

Now it's our lawyer's turn. She's doing a great job.

"Is it right Agent Crawford, that you worked with Dr. Lecter for many years."  
"Yes." Jack answers darkly.  
"He was a friend of the family, I understand?"  
"Yes."  
"You recommended him as psychiatrist for Agent Graham?"  
"Yes."  
"It never occured to you that Dr. Lecter might be anything more than a psychiatrist?" She waits only  
seconds for Jack to shake his head, before she continues, "No, I didn't think so." She looks back at  
her files, "You did arrest Agent Graham as the Chesapeake Ripper." She doesn't wait for a response,  
"Naturally, it didn't occur to you at that time that he might be innocent, otherwise you wouldn't have  
arrested him." It's not even formulated as a question. She smiles at the Jury. "When Agent Graham prove  
his innocence," she puts emphasis on my name, "was your first thought to suspect Dr. Lecter?"  
I can see that Jack hopes that this time she won't wait for him to answer. She just stares at him expectantly,  
though.  
"No."

************************

I lick my lips, drawing a laboured breath.  
"While we at first thought the Chesapeake Ripper was trying to frame me, it was all a very unfortunate accident,  
which made us blind to the truth. The Chesapeake Ripper never tried to frame me, It was mere coincidence that  
the incriminating evidence was attributed to me. But given my and Dr. Lecter's relationship being kept secret, my  
collegues were missing a vital factor. Even Dr. Lecter believed me to be guilty at the time, just like we believed him  
to be guilty. But now we know, that from the beginning, the real Chesapeake Ripper was trying to frame Dr. Lecter.  
We have yet the chance to correct that crucial mistake that cost a valuable citizen several years of his life." I really  
wonder why my tongue isn't turning black. "So I appeal to you to bring justice, where justice has been truly blind so  
far." I'm truly going to hell. But I've sold my soul the day my lips first touched Hannibal's.

***********************

I didn't even want to be here in the first place. This whole thing is creepy at best. And to top it all off, I feel like I'm coming down with a cold.  
Of course I read all about it in the papers, who hasn't? But seeing it all up close, I'd rather passed on it.  
Unbelievable, that the cops should have fucked-up so bad. But well, wouldn't have been the first time.

-

Cops are all liars. I bet the DA tampered with the evidence. But that agent Graham is a nut job.

-

Fucking faggots. Cannibalism, sodomy, fits the picture. Nothing a good Christian would do.

-

I feel like I can believe the young agent. Who would come up with such a story? It's really sad and romantic.

-

He has style, I'll give him that. But, unlike me, he let the authorities catch him. That's really sloppy. I wonder what will be more fun, having him out again or watching him grill.

-

I'm really not sure about all this, I'll wait what the others think and decide then.

***********************

Jack grabs me, when I'm about to leave the court, pushing me in an alley.  
"What are you doing, Will?! What are you doing?!"  
"You are astutely aware of what I'm doing, Jack."  
"Stop it! Stop it now, and I promise you that none of this will fall back on you."  
"We both know that's not true. If Hannibal is found guilty, I'm either going to jail or I'm being institutionalised."  
"He will do it again! Will! He will continue killing! Do you want to have those deaths on your conscience?!"  
"Judging from your little plea, I guess our chances of winning must be pretty good."  
Jack looks at me then, disgusted and desolate at the same time, having lost all hope, all foothold.  
"You're lost." He is shaking his head, as if to himself. "You're lost."  
He is correct. I reassure myself with the fact that he's not my priest, even though my soul is sure lost. There's nothing  
I can do, nothing to make Jack's path a little less painful. But on the other hand, he deserves what's coming for him.  
He pushed me at least half the way. I can assure him though, that Hannibal isn't going to kill again. No one that doesn't  
deserve it.

***********************

"After thorough examination and evaluation of evidence and testimonies the Jury has come to  
a consentaneous decision. Not guilty."

The hiss of outrage, there was in the beginning of this trial, is missing now. I can see it in their  
faces as I look around. No one is sure any longer. Even the families of the victims.  
The DA looks mortified and murderous. The judge can barely meet my eyes. The jury looks incredibly  
pround of their job. Like they contributed to a big step in the history of justice.  
And I've basically just spit on the graves of countless innocently murdered victims. Without thinking  
twice I've freed a monster, I've no idea, I'll be able to contain. How much of me is monster too by  
now, I wonder. Hell. Anyone who's felt like I do is free to judge me.

"Dr. Lecter is cleared of all charges and free to go. The state of Minnesota officially apologizes.  
His time in prison will be compensated by a payment of 15 Million Dollar and absorption of costs of  
future psychotherapy."

***********************

"Well, Miss Lounds" Hannibal raises his glass in her direction "Seems there was some use in  
letting you live, after all."  
She smiles back at him just as predatorily as he did at her.  
"It's a shame, though. It would have been a really good book." She sighs. "Well, it will  
be good book anyway, even without the really good stuff." She laughs. She toasts at me and  
Hannibal, "I noticed, that all courses today, were vegetarian. I hope you didn't make such an effort just  
because of me."  
"By no means." Hannibal smiles at her amicably "We just decided to live a little more health  
conscious. You see, all that red meat..."

************************

"Ms. Lecter!" Will waves at her "Madeleine! Over here."  
The eyes of the young girl with the two wheeled suitcases scans through the masses until it  
comes to rest on their little group. Her face lits up in a smile.  
"Daddy!" She waves at them and walks over. Hannibal meets her halfway and takes her  
suitcases.  
"I can't believe Hannibal has a daughter." Alanna exclaims, nudging Will with an elbow. They  
fooled everyone with their little charade but Alanna is the only one who really warmed up to  
them again. The others are a mixture between suspicious and embarrassed, not yet sure what  
would be worse. Having a serial killer make a fool of you or having sent an innocent friend to  
prison.  
"From his time in France." Will supplies "She lived with her mother, but now that she's finished  
college, she wants to go to University in the States."  
She hugs them both in greeting, friendly yet with the distance of new aquaintance. In the short  
moment Will catches a look of her two immaculate ears.

Dinner is amicable. Fun. It's the real test. Quite a risk. Will has made clear though, that no matter  
the outcome, Alanna isn't to be touched.

He wonders how much training it has taken. A lot he assumes, even to him there's just a trace  
of recognition left. Fleeting.

***********************

Alone at last. I look at the two. Taking in what changed and what stayed the same. Except during  
the four years he's spent in prison, he's always kept in contact with me. I remember how angry  
I was when they'd arrested Will. I threatened to take the next flight back. Though Hannibal  
assured me that it was merely temporary.  
I wonder if he would have done for me what he did for him. Throw away his ideals. He did partly.  
Back then when he kept our secret. But this was different. I told him his hopes were in vain.

They are in the kitchen now cleaning up, while I remain in the dinner room sipping my Merlot  
Rosé. Well, Hannibal is cleaning up. Will is helping himself to the left overs. I can't believe  
Hannibal actually moved into Will's house with all of his dogs strolling around, claiming anything  
unattented their own. Calling this house charming, would be a nice way of saying shabby.  
"And there I wanted to take you to Europe." Hannibal exclaims with a sigh "What of all my plans  
now?" I think he's actually sulking, if it were an emotion I've ever seen on him.  
Will smiles at him, looking more carefree than I remember having ever seen him.  
"We can still go to Europe, on vacation."  
Hannibal sniffs at that, looking at Will with what I assume is indignation over him thinking that  
his meager amount of annual days off could be possibly enough for a thorough visit and pity  
for him actually not knowing better.  
Will just leans in and kisses him. First just their lips touching. Then Will moves a hand up into  
Hannibal's hair. Hannibal puts the dishcloth behind himself on the counter without turning,  
before he plants his hands firmly on either side of Will's face, engaging more actively in the kiss  
now. Soon Will finds himself to be the one leaning back against the counter, with Hannibal deep  
into his intimate space, to speak in psychological terms, because of, well, the obvious.  
Somehow I feel like a peeping Tom and I'm infinitely glad they're not my real parents, because  
that would be really awkward.  
I get up and try to leave for my room without disturbing their peace. 

"Good night, Abigail."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case, it wasn't obvious enough, Abigail had plastic surgery done, both on her ear and in her face, so no one would recognize her.
> 
> So, this is it. Thanks to everyone who stayed till the end, but also to those who just stumbled upon this Story. And of course, an incredibly big thank you to those who left kudos and comments!!!  
> This was the first of my fanfictions that was really popular. I still remember how I uploaded the first chapter and and it had been read about 300 times when I looked it up the next day.  
> Still to this day, it's the most popular of my stories.  
> So thank you again, to everyone that made me so incredibly happy by reading this.


End file.
